When young men find delight
Under a red bedspread
With girls who pass through
How many of them
Consider how cold
Is the hold of gold?
Time runs on
And youth turns to age.
Some still engage
With girls who pass through,
But all age,
And in time, are gone.
A young lady named Ling
Likes to dance and sing.
In the depths of the dark
The dogs howl and bark
And neighbours throw things at Ling!
I’ve just met a very old monk
Who stood in the pub getting drunk.
He said, “sweet barmaid Claire
Let us have an affair!”.
Have you seen a black eyed monk …?
In dreams
It sometimes seems
That dark
Fantasy is reality.
In art we see
A kind of reality.
While inside the dreaming mind
Hides the truth of art.
My great friend the late Lord Kettle
Said, “I am quite unable to settle”.
Then he made some tea,
Which he shared with me,
In a place that’s known as Settle.
You praised polyamory.
As for me
I am not polyamorous
But you, being glamorous,
I found time
To rhyme
And discuss polyamory
With thee …
On my way home
I pause for drink.
Then go to bed alone
And think,
‘Ere I sleep
Of my work and play
On the coming day.
Yet, I may
Forever stay
In sleep.
When a young lady whose name is Lou
Said, “watch out as I’m coming for you!”.
And I said, “are you a ghoul,
She said, “no! you stupid old fool!
I’m Lou, and you’ve just stolen my shoe!”.
When a young lady named Kate
Said, “Kevin, you really do procrastinate!”.
I said, “I beg your pardon!
But I am doing this garden!
But perhaps the garden can wait …!”.
Corporate types programme their likes
Into computers,
Where they are heard
By commuters
And a middle-aged poet
Who romanticises vinyl,
And exchanges a final word
With the barmaid,
Who doesn’t remember vinyl.
K Morris - Poet 